


dangerous game

by VeloxVoid



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Surprise Ending, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29249742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid
Summary: Nezumi is falling. He hates it — he fights it — but he cannot stop himself from succumbing to Shion’s overwhelming magnetism.He realises that, against his every instinct, he wants to spend more time with the white-haired boy. He could never admit that, however. Instead, Nezumi shows his feelings in the only way he knows how.
Relationships: Nezumi & Shion (No. 6), Nezumi/Shion (No. 6)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	dangerous game

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [VeloxVoid](https://twitter.com/VeloxVoid) on Twitter if you'd like to follow me for more~

The warmth of Nezumi’s small, dark little home embraced him at once, wrapping comforting arms around each of his muscles, lulling them into an instinctual relaxation.

_Home._

That was a loose word for it. The hovel he sheltered in each night would never truly be his home — not the one he’d once had, in all its splendour and beauty — but he supposed it would suffice for now. 

The interior he stared into now was dark — the towering bookshelves casting tall shadows across the floor and walls, with a soft amber candlelight glowing feebly from within. An ambient light. Secretive. Cosy, with slightly dank and balmy air offering a welcome change from the bite of the wintry breeze outside. This, Nezumi knew, was where he belonged. At least for the time being.

He closed the door behind himself and locked it, trudging through the little den towards the beacon of light. Yet as he rounded a corner past one of his bookshelves, gently stepping over his robotic rats that came to greet him with excitable squeaks, he was met with something that set him on edge.

Upon his sofa lay an unfamiliar sight — one that made him tense, almost prepared to fight — until he remembered.

The boy. _Shion._

He lay curled up in a ball, with his head resting upon a pile of pillows and one of Nezumi’s scratchy blankets pulled over his body. His feet poked out from beneath, clad in socks littered with holes. That made a strange sensation tug at his heartstrings — something close to sadness.

 _Damn it,_ he almost muttered aloud. As if on instinct, Nezumi pulled off his shawl, exposing his neck to the dank air of his home, and lay it over Shion’s exposed feet and legs.

Unfortunately, the action roused the boy. Pale eyelids opened blearily to reveal the fierce scarlet irises beneath — irises that could look so fearsome, forged by fire itself, but instead were caring and concerned. Those eyes darted around the room before they focussed on Nezumi standing before them, and a soft smile broke across Shion’s lips.

Why did the sight make his heart skip a beat?

“Oh, hey Nezumi. Where did you go?” Shion sat up, disturbing the blankets atop him and revealing messy hair from where he’d lay on it. “Are you okay?”

Nezumi rolled his eyes; alas, Shion was awake. Awake, bright-eyed, and brimming with questions that grated on his nerves.

He much preferred when the boy was asleep.

Turning away from him, Nezumi shrugged off his jacket and threw it over the arm of the sofa.

“You left for so long,” Shion piped up. “I was getting worried about you.”

“So worried you fell asleep,” Nezumi grumbled. “Worry should make you alert, not complacent.”

And when he glanced back over his shoulder, he saw saddened eyebrows — an expression like a wounded puppy. Nezumi could do nothing but heave a long, heavy sigh. He _hated_ how that expression got to him.

In an apology, he sat down on the sofa next to Shion, looking dead ahead at the bookshelves. The wood was well-worn with age, dotted by holes from old woodworms. Decrepit, rather like everything in his life. “Was everything okay while I was gone?” he asked, rueing himself for breaking down that wall.

Don’t talk to the kid. Don’t ask questions. _Don’t_ get attached. All things he’d urged himself upon deciding to save him. Attachment could only lead to disaster; he knew that better than any.

But when Shion’s head turned to him, and those fantastic eyes fixed on his own with passionate flames dancing within, Nezumi’s heart skipped a beat. The wall was crumbling, and through its cracks came such a fierce warmth that emanated from Shion’s very being. 

“Everything was fine!” Shion chirped back in response. “Hamlet and I decided to read _The Taming of the Shrew_ together. I said it should’ve been named _The Taming of the Rat._ He seemed to find that funny.”

That made Nezumi’s eyes widen incredulously. _Taming the rat…?_ Was that a mere crappy pun on Shion’s part about the species of his robotic companions? Or was he making a sick joke about Nezumi’s name, and the fact that he’d somehow managed to break down Nezumi’s hardened exterior — _taming_ him?

“Sorry if that wasn’t funny,” Shion said, anxiety taking over his face as he peered into Nezumi’s eyes. “It was only a joke, honest.”

“Yeah, well, you know how I am with jokes,” he muttered in response, leaning backwards into the squashy cushions of the sofa. His head reeled. Mere moments ago, he’d been returning home from work, life as normal. Yet now, as he returned home instead to the boy with the smiles, his blood rushed wildly around his body.

What was Shion _doing_ to him? He was sweet, cheery, happy-go-lucky, and pointlessly passionate about all the wrong things. He was everything Nezumi despised — everything that would get Nezumi killed. The first time he’d laid eyes on the boy, screaming into the storm with such a fiery streak of rebellion, Nezumi had thought he and Shion might share a common goal.

Now, he wasn’t sure. Shion had so much to learn, and yet he was reluctant. He stood by his silly little morals no matter how dangerous they were. He still held love for the parasitic dystopia of No. 6 no matter what Nezumi told him.

He was dangerous. He was a blatant hazard in so, _so_ many ways. Yet he hid it all beneath a guise of innocence and goodwill.

Why was Nezumi still bothering with him? He wouldn’t last ten minutes alone in West Block; Nezumi could throw him out into the streets and be done with him forever.

And yet something about that face… Those huge eyes burning with desire, that sweet smile that cradled his lips into such a curious, enticing shape. That hair, now the same white colour as fallen ash, crowning his face in a way that was strangely endearing.

Nezumi grit his teeth and buried his face in his hands.

He didn’t _want_ to like Shion. But he couldn’t stop himself from it.

“Hey, are you alright?” Shion asked, placing a hand on his shoulder and shuffling closer to him. “What’s up? Headache?”

 _“You_ are the headache, Shion,” Nezumi growled back.

That shut him up. Nezumi felt him recoil a little, felt his hand slip from his shoulder.

 _No._ Before he could control himself, one of Nezumi’s hands shot out to grab Shion’s wrist. He kept the boy’s fingers still, kept them against his shoulder. They were kind, and warm. They made a heat blossom through Nezumi’s veins, welcome and comforting.

Nezumi realised he wanted Shion’s touch. He opened his eyes, removed his free hand from his face, and stared into Shion’s startled eyes.

“What’s going on…?” the boy asked.

And Nezumi adjusted his hand so that their fingers were intertwined, holding tightly onto Shion and basking in his warmth.

“It’s late,” he said after a moment. “We should sleep.”

Shion blinked at him for a moment, as if wanting to say more, but eventually nodded. “Sure,” he said. He slowly disentangled their fingers, gathered Nezumi’s shawl from where it lay sprawled around him, and placed it into the man’s lap. Nezumi watched with irritated eyes as Shion adjusted the shabby blanket around himself, attempting to curl up beneath it once more.

“That blanket’s not big enough for you,” he snapped.

Shion blinked in surprise. “I don’t mind. With the candles in the lamps lit, it stays pretty warm in here.”

“Cold isn’t good for your body.”

Shion’s eyebrows wavered a little, a look flickering across his face as if to say _What do you want me to do about it?_

Nezumi liked that.

“My bedroom’s warmer. You can stay in there.” Without waiting for an answer, Nezumi stood, crossing to his bedroom before he could change his mind.

Shion wandered in after him, expression alight. “You want me to stay in your room?”

Nezumi didn’t respond. _Did_ he want that? He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. It was better if he never knew. He pulled back the covers from his own bed and looked expectantly at Shion.

“If you’re sure…” The boy walked slowly to him, expression a little uneasy, but he sat down upon the mattress regardless. When he made no other movement, Nezumi was prompted to growl.

“You’re going to sleep sitting up?”

“Oh, of course not.” And Shion lay down, tucking his legs up into a ball again and settling down into the pillow. “But, Nezumi, if I’m taking your bed, where are you going to sleep?”

Nezumi crossed to the coffee table, extinguished the candle from inside its lamp, and the room was plunged into darkness. The feeble lamplight still glowed softly from outside the room, but did nothing to illuminate the figure of the boy that lay within his bed. Nezumi couldn’t see him, and it was better that way.

But Shion was still waiting for an answer, Nezumi knew. As such, he padded to the bed and lowered himself onto the mattress, gently lying down and pulling the covers up over his and Shion’s bodies.

This close, the boy emanated a warmth so fierce it threatened to sear Nezumi’s skin. Beneath the covers, so close to him, Nezumi could smell his sweet, natural scent; of the soap in his hair, and something almost like baked bread upon his t-shirt. But over it all, Nezumi was overwhelmed by the pure ferocity of the _heat_ that accompanied Shion’s presence.

That was just one more sign, Nezumi knew. Shion reminded him of the fires he feared so deeply — the ones that had consumed his family and home, eradicated his people.

Shion’s fire would burn Nezumi too if he wasn’t careful. It already had, in a way — swallowing him up in flames of passion and desire. If he didn’t keep his distance, he would be burnt badly. Wounded by Shion’s dewy-eyed naivete.

Shion turned beneath the covers until he faced Nezumi, but remained silent. He said no words, but soft breaths left his lips in quick-paced pants. _So, your heart’s beating just as fast as mine is, huh?_ Nezumi wanted to speak — to quip and scorn. But he didn’t.

He said no words either, but he cupped Shion’s chin in tentative fingers and pressed his lips against the boy’s own. They felt caustic — white-hot like the flames that had licked at his back all those years ago — but Nezumi couldn’t let go. He didn’t _want_ to let go. He angled his head to one side, feeling Shion do the same, and kissed him with a fervour he didn’t know lay inside him.

His heart threatened to pound through his ribs, his pulse frantic enough to burst through his veins, but he continued to kiss Shion as if the world were crumbling around them. As if this kiss was his last moment on this planet — what he would die doing. It was a kiss he’d kept pent up inside himself for years, unfolding alongside the love he’d tried to hide down deep.

They were together. At long, long last, Nezumi had Shion in his arms, against his lips, and he didn’t ever want to let go. The boy was dangerous, yes, but Nezumi didn’t care. He realised in that moment that he would put himself in every danger for Shion; he already had, multiple times.

He thought that perhaps, with Shion here now, he truly _could_ call this place home. And, just perhaps... he could finally call himself whole.


End file.
